One writer's attempt to not be so lazy.

July 17 2016

Riley watched with trepidation as the printer, apparently of it own accord, sucked in a sheet a paper and started to print something. A second later, it spat out the first sheet and started on a second. Riley picked up the first piece of paper. There were two words printed on it bold, black letters: RILEY ADAMS. She stared at it for a moment until the printer offered her the second sheet. This one, too, had a message in the same bold, black letters: WE NEED TO TALK.

“Well,” Riley said to the empty office, considering the two pages in her hands, “this is definitely a new one.”